


The Wolf's Heart

by TruebornAlpha



Series: The Christmas Caper [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Detective Noir, Detective Stiles, M/M, Murder Mystery, Rough Sex, Sciles, Singer Scott, Smut, Teen Wolf AU, noir, sceo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5518634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Stilinski put everything on the line to go after New York crime boss Theo Raeken, but he should have known  it was a set up from the very beginning. Framed for a murder he didn't commit and the case falling down around him, Stiles is on the run from both the cops and from Theo's goons. The worst part was that only one person could have played him so well: Scott McCall. </p>
<p>Or, that Sciles detective noir fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf's Heart

“Stiles, open the goddamn door!”

Stiles was still collecting his thoughts, but it got harder and harder with every rap on his door that felt like a knock on his aching skull. A growl twisted through Malia’s voice, sharp and angry, and if Stiles wasn’t so hurt, he would notice the fear in it, too.

“You got til three, Stilinski or we’re coming in! One!”

Stiles looked around wildly, and only managed to make himself dizzy. Nothing and everything stood out all at once, the entire world tinged red and tasting of copper. It took him too long to realize what he was staring at.

“Two!”

Just inches from Stiles’s hand, a ruger pistol lay beneath the worn leather chair that had gotten as close to Scott McCall’s shapely ass as most people dreamed. Its barrel was still hot, and splattered with what was left of the dead man’s face. Stiles tried to roll away from it, and Malia screamed.

“THREE!”

The door gave away with a burst of splinters and banged against the opposite wall. A horde of Beacon Hill’s finest flooded into the room, and at their helm, holding her gun level with his head, was Detective Malia Tate. Stiles thought it was a good idea to drop his hand. With a heavy sigh, more solemn than he’d ever heard her, she said, “Grzegorz Stilinski, you are under arrest for the murder of Josh Diaz. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

“Don’t do this, Malia. I didn’t kill the guy. I don’t even know him.” Stiles slurred. It was lost in a scream as an officer twisted his arms behind his back, leaving him trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

“Didn’t I just tell you it was smart for you to shut your goddamn mouth, Stilinski? Don’t you ever listen?” She yanked him back and passed him off to one of the other officers. “Get him downtown and get the medical examiner in here, now.” Malia snapped at one of the uniforms who jumped to obey. With a heavy sigh, she crouched down by the body and studied its ruined face. “Jesus, Stiles. What the hell did you get yourself into this time?”

“I told you three times already, I don’t know who that guy was or what he was doing on my floor.” Stiles was defensive, though it didn’t take much to get his hackles up. He felt like he was talking to a wall, repeating himself over and over as Malia’s incredulous expression never wavered. “Look.” He said, putting his handcuffed wrists on the bare metal table between them with a clank. “I was working a case and got attacked from behind. When I came to, I was back in my office and the guy had croaked on my floor. I only woke up a minute before you came in, I was framed.”

“Course you were, Stiles.” Malia rubbed her fingers against his temple and slid the black and white photos across the tabletop. “You’re telling me you don’t know this guy?”

“I swear, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Except for the fact that he was in your office shot with your gun. Damnit Stiles, I told you to stop with this Raeken thing.”

The detective froze, a paranoid lump settling in his gut. “What about Raeken?”

“Josh Diaz, one of Theo Raeken’s known associates. I know you’re fixated on him, but you’ve gone way too far. You crossed a line.”

“I didn’t do it, Malia!” Stiles snarled, slamming his hands on the table and getting to his feet. Malia never backed down from a challenge.

“So why were you spotted by the docks on Diaz’s shift, just hours before this clusterfuck?” She demanded. Stiles recoiled like she’d hit him, horror twisted across his face. Only the cuffs kept him in place. “I’ve given you many,  _many_ chances to come clean Stiles. The sooner you tell me what’s going on, the better it’ll be for all of us.”

Stiles could feel the blood draining from his face, his heartbeat hammering in his chest, blood racing so fast it rung in his ears. He was shell-shocked and injured and haunted by the stench of everything that was supposed to stay inside the human body. Yet everything slipped into place and shone with such painful clarity, Stiles was almost blinded.

“I’m being set up.” Malia snorted and Stiles couldn’t even be affronted. “No, Malia, I’m being set up. It’s this case. I know it is. It’s-”

“A Raeken case? _Another_ Raeken case?”

He paused, fixing her with a steady gaze before he slowly, carefully sank back into his chair, making sure every gesture looked intentional. Malia didn’t follow his lead, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared him down. Stiles took a deep, steadying breath and weighed the better of two evils. Considering his was facing life in the slammer, the choice only grated against his nerves a little.

“Yes, but I knew Peter Hale was dead before any of the cops in this joint, and Raeken is involved. He set me up, Malia, because I was getting too close. And okay - okay, I know Diaz, but Diaz helped me. He took a bribe from me. I wouldn’t have killed him.”

“And how exactly did you know Peter Hale was dead?”

Stiles opened his mouth to answer before snapping it shut. He was willing to damn himself if it meant convincing Malia of the truth, but he couldn’t expose Scott like that. There was no telling what Theo would do to him if he found out that Scott had betrayed him and Stiles didn’t trust anyone in the police department except for Malia. It would be easy for a corrupt cop to leak the information back to his rival and he could be the reason that Scott might be the next body they found. The detective huffed and dropped his head against the table. “I have a source.”

“Oooh, a source! That’s a different story then.” Malia said dryly. “Let me just uncuff you and send you on your way now that I know you have a source.”

“I’m telling you the truth. You know me, Malia. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a killer.”

“You might not be a cold-blooded killer, but if he surprised you at home or attacked you? You’d put a bullet in him quick, I know you. Don’t play innocent with me.”

Stiles banged his hands hard enough on the table to make the officer jump. “I’m being set up! He’s gotten to you, you know he’s got connections at the force.”

The woman’s expression hardened and her eyes narrowed dangerously. Stiles knew he might have gone too far. “Are you accusing me of being corrupt?”

He back-peddled as quickly as he could. “No, you know that’s not what I meant. You’re the only one I’ve been able to trust with this, he’s dangerous and you believe me. He’s the one who killed Peter Hale and he’s somehow setting me up to take the fall for this Josh guy too. How did you even know to bust me at that exact moment, huh? I’ll bet someone told you to look in on me.”

Malia shuffled through her papers without looking at her prisoner. “Maybe we got a tip.”

“See? I told you, it was one of Raeken’s men calling after he set me up.”

It had been the very definition of an open and shut case, and Malia knew it. Malia also knew someone like Stiles would have covered his tracks a lot better if he’d been planning to commit murder. There was always the chance that Josh had gotten the drop on him, but her gut told her no. At the very least, it meant that Josh had a good reason to go after a drunk flat foot. Money would never be a motive with Stiles. Being pressured by his boss sounded a lot better. Stiles took her silence as encouragement.

“Please, Mal. Just give me a week, just one week, and I’ll bust this case open.”

“You’re joking if you think I’m going to let you-”

“Forty-eight hours!” Stiles yelled, his face splotchy with anger, eyes wide and desperate. “Give me 48 hours, and I will get you Theo Raeken. I swear to the bottom of every bottle I drank myself down, Malia, 48 hours.”

The detective stared at him like she was trying to decide if he was a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve or if he was a few marbles short of a full set, but she relented, “Two days, Stiles. I’m not saying anyone else will like this, but I can guarantee you _I_ won’t go after you for two days.”

That was as good a deal as any. Malia was the only cop on the force worth a damn. If anyone was going to catch him, it would be her. If things went tits up, he could make sure Scott was on a train to Canada where no one would hurt him in 48  hours.

“Thank you.”

“Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Stiles was grateful that no one had checked the heel of his shoe. The only reason he could catch the metro was because of the cash he’d rolled up and stowed in the hollow compartment. He couldn’t go back to his office. It was too risky. It was almost certain that Theo’s men would be watching it. Right out of the precinct, he took a quick detour down town to pawn a new-old hat and coat out of a Salvation Army box.

Theo may have been watching his base, but he would never expect Stiles to stick his head in the lion’s mouth. The Chimera was his best bet at finding Scott.

The club was almost empty, a hollow tribute to money and glamour like looked almost cheap in the glaring light of day. It was the people who breathed sin into this place and without them, it was just another abandoned church of greed. The one lone bartender was busy organizing his stock and it was easy to dodge the bored looking bouncer. No one was expecting any trouble so early in the day when things were slow, trouble only started when the sun set and the club came alive. Stiles pulled his hat down low over his face as he kept to the poorly lit corners of the room. With a quick look around, he slipped passed the _Employees Only_ door and into the back hallways. Scott had to be somewhere practicing, that was what he did, right? If he was lucky, he could find the singer and Theo wouldn’t be in the club yet. But when was he ever lucky?

The detective followed the hallway back to the dressing rooms, finding Scott’s easily with his name hanging on a small plaque on the door. He pushed it open just a little to check if the coast was clear and his heart went tumbling down into his toes.

In the slim crack of the open door, Stiles could see Scott on his knees on the floor. The singer was disheveled, clothes a wrinkled mess and shirt hanging low off of one shoulder. His black hair was spiked with sweat and his eyes were glassy, fixed on the man who held him still by the tie around his neck that Theo wielded like a leash. Stiles didn’t want to think about the wetness on Scott’s face that dripped down his neck before being lost beneath his shirt.

“It all worked out, didn’t it?” He couldn’t see Raeken, but Stiles would know that voice anywhere and his fists clenched tight in rage. “I couldn’t have taken care of that annoying detective without you there to help me. I doubt we’ll be hearing from him again any time soon.” Theo purred, tracing his thumb along Scott’s swollen lips before slipping them inside for the man to greedily suck. “That’s a good boy.”

Scott gave a low wordless groan and rested his head against Theo’s hip. “I love you.”

“I know you do, baby.”

Theo ran his fingers through Scott’s hair, dragging his nail across his scalp, coaxing Scott closer until he was exactly where he belonged, between his legs and so hopelessly besotted. “That’s why we can fix this, all of this.”

His grip tightened around Scott’s leash, and the singer let out a breathless, wet sound, his entire body trembling as he pressed forward.

“All you have to do is be good for me.”

Stiles jerked away as Scott’s face disappeared from view, his body bent forward in a graceful arch. No matter how quickly he fled, the slick, wet sounds followed him down the hall. He’d been more coordinated when he was drunk, but with the sickest thoughts ricocheting through his head like wayward bullets, Stiles couldn’t help but wish he was.

The elevator barely clunked as it ascended every floor, a marvel of modern technology. Everything was pressed and polished, from the shining glass ceiling down to the operator in his crisp uniform, even if it was his seventh hour on shift. Just like the building it sped through, fit for only the rich and influential. It was every New Yorker’s dream, with a view of Central Park to sweeten the deal.

Scott didn’t belong there. The doorman knew who he was, so did the elevator operator. He had a name attached to him, a name that made them look away from the tears in his bespoke coat, the sweat stains on his collar, and his unsteady gait. It didn’t change that they wanted to ignore him. Scott almost wished the rest of the world could ignore him, too.

He’d been driven home by two of Theo’s men, and he didn’t need to check to know that their sedan would be parked outside the building all night, maybe for the rest of Scott’s nights. Soon the doorman would know that Scott wasn’t allowed visitors, and Scott expected Theo would be kind enough to give him his own personal car, complete with a driver with a twitchy trigger finger.

His options were slipping through his fingers, but Scott couldn’t raise his hands to stop them. He stumbled into his apartment, weaving through a darkness that was all too familiar. There was nothing easier than memorizing the limits of your cage. All he wanted was to get to bed. If he could put a few more hours between him and Hell, maybe he could get out of all this alive.

Without warning, light flooded the room, and the singer flinched instinctively. Sitting in the corner of his bedroom, a nicked pistol on his lap was Detective Stiles Stilinski.

Scott’s entire world ground to a halt.

“No no no, you can’t be here!” He rasped, voice breaking in his throat. “He’ll _kill_ you!”

“You can drop the act now, doll. I know all about it.” Stiles swayed unsteadily to his feet, knocking over the side table. The precariously balanced bottle toppled to the floor with a crash, whisky soaking into the carpet. Scott had been stocked to the hilt with the good stuff, none of that cheap swill he managed to afford from the liquor store, and the detective had helped himself. Nothing numbed betrayal like the burn of good Jack, but it did nothing to quell the rage as he trained the pistol on the other man.

Scott slowly raised his hands in surrender. There was no more fear in the singer, no more wide-eyed innocence. There was only a quiet sort of resignation as he stared down the barrel of the detective’s gun like he’d been waiting for this all his life. He might not have expected the ambushed, but he was ready for it. “You’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t plug ya full of holes.” Stiles slurred, fury beating like a drum against the inside of his skull. “Theo’s little whore, I should have known better. I guess you’re used to people falling for that pretty face of yours.”

Scott’s jaw tightened at the insult, ashamed and angry, though more at himself than the detective. Stiles wasn’t wrong, he’d traded sex for security and for money. He had never thought he was making the devil’s deal back when he signed away his life for some glittering fantasy. Things were supposed to be better, he had so much hope that this new life would have been everything he’d ever dreamed of. Reality was an ugly reminder of what he’d become. “So what if I am? Better than some washed-up booze-soaked sucker who just rolled out of the gutter.”

The pistol clicked, hammer cocked as Scott squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the shot that never came. Stiles slid the safety back on and slipped his gun back into its holster. “And have two dead bodies tied to me? I’m just some washed-up drunk, but I’m not a sucker. You and Raeken set me up with that stiff in my office, I’m not falling for this again.”

Relief flooded through the singer, icy bands of fear easing just enough from his chest that he could breathe again. “You’ve got a target on your back and Theo’s people are watching this place. I need to get you out of here. You can hate me all you want when you’re safe.”

Scott never got a warning. Stiles swung hard, his fist slamming into his gut, snarling, “I told you to drop the act, bitch.”

He patted himself on the back for not using the gun, no matter how badly he wanted to split Scott’s face open, but it was a short-lived victory. The singer went down like a sack of bricks, doubled-over and wheezing, and even with far too much booze clouding his vision, Stiles didn’t think he could hit him that hard. He prodded at Scott with the toe of his shoe, sneering down at him. “Hey… Doesn’t _Theo_ like you better mean? I do.”

Scott grit his teeth, shoving ineffectively at the detective’s knees as he pushed himself to his feet. It was slow work when his muscles trembled, and a cold sweat broke across his brow. He clenched his jaw and stared the detective dead in the eye. He had to fight for each breath, an age-old friend settling over his chest and choking the air out of his lungs, but even if Scott couldn’t fight back, he wasn’t going to give in like this.

Maybe he even deserved it.

“Get out, Stilinski. This is your last warning, or you’re leaving in a body bag.”

“Sc-…” Stiles stopped himself before he could fall back on an old name, one that had become too familiar too soon, and part of him hated to let it go. His brow furrowed, confusion splashed across his features for a moment, and Scott wished he didn’t notice. He wished he didn’t remember Stiles when he was kinder.

_Last chance because I owe you that much._ Scott wanted to say. _Last chance because I’m sorry._

The singer was sure he must have said that much, but dark spots bloomed across his vision. It was all over before he could open his mouth. He never saw Stiles lunge for him, screaming his name.

**[Last Night]**

_“Mr. McCall, the boss wants to talk to you.”_

“Is he in his office?” Scott asked, not missing a beat, a small but calculated smile playing across his features. Once upon a time, hearing Theo’s name had been enough to give him a healthy dose of the butterflies. Now, Scott just counted his blessings that he knew what he looked like when he was in love.

“No, but there’s a call waiting for you.”

Scott was ready for a set back. He’d been prepared for far too long to let a little interruption derail his plans, but Theo’s voice was pleasant on the line.

“Hey Scott, some business’s come up. Can I meet you at your apartment tonight instead?”

Scott didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know that Theo’s guard was within hearing distance, but it didn’t matter either way. He put on a show, dropping his tone low with concern. “Yeah, it’s all the same to me.” He could summon the police either way. “Are you okay?”

“I will be when this is all over. Are you worried, gorgeous?”

“You know I always worry.”

Even after all this time, Theo’s laugh still made heart speed up in all the good ways. A flare of guilt rushed through his veins, but Scott’s smile never wavered. It was time. There was no turning back now.

“Then don’t worry _too_ much. What are you doing tonight?”

“Well…” Scott said, drawling out the sound like a tease. “I think I’ll be busy, trying to find the right thing to wear to welcome you home. You’re not going to keep me long?”

“Mmmmm, not when you keep tempting me like that.” Theo purred. “I’m sorry to make you wait, I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’m on pins and needles, boss man.” Scott gently put the phone back on the receiver and let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Theo had been the only one who had ever loved him and Scott had loved him back, still loved him, but he couldn’t be a part of this life anymore. Too many people were getting hurt and he couldn’t make it stop. The only option left was to escape and run somewhere that even Theo would never be able to find him. Staying meant dying slowly with blood on his hands, leaving meant betraying someone who’d saved his life. There was no easy answer and he’d agonized for months before he put together his plan. Escape meant the only person left to hate was himself and at the end of everything, that was something he could live with.

Scott slipped out of his dressing room and down the hall, glancing quickly to make sure no one was watching before jimmying the lock to the storage room. Stiles had been sent on a wild goose chase after some shipment to distract Theo and it looked like it was all working. Once Scott called the police, everything would come crumbling down around Theo’s head, and hopefully that would give Stiles enough time to escape with his life. He hadn’t wanted to hurt the detective. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone.

A few well-placed hints and Stiles thought he was chasing a drug bust that would put his name in lights. He had no idea how wrong he was, but he’d never figure it out running around the docks. The precious cargo had been smuggled into the club and stashed away for Scott. Getting Josh to divert the real package and help with his plan hadn’t been easy, but the guard didn’t know exactly what it was he was helping Scott steal. Josh might have been the only friend Scott had among Theo’s people, but this was too dangerous to trust to anyone else with.

The singer crouched in the dusty narrow room and dug his nails into the air vent inches above the concrete floor. He pried it lose, holding his breath as it banged loudly against the floor before reaching in to pull the little package free. This was it! His freedom, the way to start over again and rebuild his life. It was hope that things would finally get better. There were no drugs, Theo had been smuggling in something worth more than that. The Wolf’s Heart, a flawless diamond and the beginning of Scott’s new life.

With his heart in his throat, he fit the grate back over the vent and retreated back to the safety of his dressing room. There was no time for goodbyes. All he had to do was walk out the door and it would all be over.

“I’m disappointed.”

Scott gave a muffled yelp, fumbling the package between nerveless fingers and dropping it to the floor. Raw animal fear flooded through him, every instinct screaming at him to run. The world opened up beneath his feet and Scott was suddenly free-falling with no way to hold on.

“T-Theo?”

Theo watched the color drain out of the singer’s face, approaching with a predator’s confidence. There was a sick sort of triumph in his gaze, smug when someone who’d hurt him so badly cowered for his mercy, but it was spoiled with disgust. Scott was the only one who could do this to him.

“I didn’t want to believe it when I found out. I didn’t think you could do this to me. You would go behind my back with _Stilinski_ of all people.” He whispered, as deceptively calm as the ocean’s surface. The package crunched beneath his feet, and worthless coal spilled out at the corners. Scott fought back a gasp.

“Wait Theo, I can explain-”

The hit came out of nowhere, punching the air out of his lungs with an aching wheeze before Theo slammed him into his vanity, hard enough to crack the mirror that caught him. Powerful hands closed around Scott’s throat, and the singer panicked, clawing at his attacker as blood rushed to his face.

“Explain how you betrayed me?!” Theo spat, shaking Scott like a rag doll, glass splintering around him and leaving a bloody halo where it broke. “I gave you everything, Scott. I took you in when no one else wanted you. I made you everything you are, and this is how you repay me?!”

Guilt and fear fought through Scott’s veins. He couldn’t force out the words, fighting for air as his vision blurred. Theo threw him to the ground and slammed his heel into Scott’s spine when he tried to crawl away. He kicked him until Scott was begging for mercy, beating out all thoughts of escape. The singer’s pleas fell on deaf ears, and Theo only stopped when he was satisfied.

Breathing hard, the raw fury in his eyes tamed into something far more sinister, he dragged Scott up by the hair, and wiped the blood off his cheek from where Scott had bitten through his lip to keep from crying out.

“Don’t worry, baby. I can make this go away.” He promised, forcing the younger boy onto his knees. “You could have ruined us, but I’m giving you another chance, as long as you can be good. Because I love you… and you love me, too. Isn’t that right pet?”

“I love you.” Scott breathed the words, mind a blank with terror. He had never disobeyed Theo like this before and death was a fitting punishment. He fell back into old habits, the degrading, obedient displays of submission that Theo liked most. Anything to make the pain stop. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my own fault, isn’t it? I’ve been neglecting you lately when I should have spent more time with you. Is that it? Or were you just greedy for more money after all the gifts I’ve given you? I paid for your apartment, all your clothes, your drivers, your protection. I’ve given you the headlining spot at my club and made you into a star and what, it just wasn’t enough?”

“N-no!” Scott bowed his head, leaning in towards the other man like a supplicant at an altar. “It was a mistake, I’m sorry. I won’t ever leave you.”

“No, you won’t.” His voice was gentle and almost fond, but there was a steel edge to them that made Scott shiver. “I’ve taken care of Stilinski and Josh, you know how much I hate disloyalty.” Scott flinched, realization hitting as hard as Theo’s fist. They were gone and it was all his fault. He’d been the one who dragged the detective into this mess and he’d convinced Josh to disobey orders. It was all his selfish desire to run away that had cost the men their lives and Scott would have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life, short as it seemed now. He sagged against Theo’s legs, completely defeated. 

Theo carded his hands through his singer’s hair, just as gentle as he was on the nights they were tangled between his sheets. “If you love me, you should prove it to me, Scott. Everyone makes mistakes and I can forgive you if you really want me to. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? You want me to make everything okay?”

Scott nodded numbly, looking up at the other man through dark lashes. This was his place, he was going to die on his knees and he deserved nothing less. “I’ll be good for you, I promise. I’ll be good.”

“You know just what to say to make a man feel better, don’t you?”

Scott shuddered as careful fingers walked down his cheek. Theo’s fingertips parted his lips, sparks of want running through his nerves despite himself. He wanted because Theo made him want. He should have known there was no escaping this. Theo tugged on his shirt, and Scott didn’t even need a command to strip it off, shameless as he exposed dark skin, already speckled with the promise of bruises.

“It all goes back to this filthy mouth of yours. Show me you can put it to good use.”

Scott’s sides ached and his back throbbed, but he tripped over himself to nuzzle against his boss’s clothed crotch as he scrambled to yank down his pants. Theo kept a firm hand in his hair, his grip a steady reminder that Scott only moved because he was allowed to, and he laughed at how eager his pet was to please. He jerked Scott’s head back, forcing him to look him in the eye as he fucked his limp cock into his mouth, spreading his sweet lips around his shaft. Scott could feel his length fattening on his tongue. Surrender was the only option when Theo demanded more, always more. He shoved Scott closer, cock kissing the back of his throat as he held the other man in place, Scott’s nose pressed against his pubes as he made a spot for himself down his throat.

“Did you give Stilinski a taste of what you can do?” Theo whispered, smirk twisting into something cruel as Scott’s pretty brown eyes teared up and he struggled to breathe. He was never more satisfied than when his baby put on a show for him. “Was that another… mistake?”

Scott whimpered around his cock, desperate to placate Theo, but he flinched at the flick of a match. Theo lit his cigarette, taking a steadying drag of smoke before letting it waft into the air. He tapped the stick over Scott’s bare back, careless of the ashes that rolled across his skin.

“I’m going to have to make sure you don’t make any more of those.”

Scott pulled off with a wet _pop_ , strings of precum dripping from his lips. He kept his eyes on Theo, kissing down his thick shaft and nuzzling against his balls. He licked at the sensitive skin, sucking them into his mouth and rolling them against his tongue.

Theo groaned, taking a deep drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke filter between his lips as his pet caressed between his thighs. For all of his faults and his mistakes, Scott was a pretty thing and well trained in how to please him. Always willing and always eager, Theo was smug as he watched his boy work. No one else would ever get to see Scott like this, it was a prize for him alone. Stilinski could never appreciate a gift like this and he would make sure Scott never so much as thought about straying. He tightened his fingers in Scott’s hair until his captive gasped in pain and Theo could fuck down his open throat.

The young man gagged around Theo’s cock and drooling down his chin. He curled his hands around his boss’s thighs to steady himself, but Theo forced him down until Scott’s face ground against the sharp metal of his zipper and the singer’s vision was swallowed in black. When he was released, Scott coughed and panted, taking in gasping gulps of air before punishing hands pulled him back.

“Stilinski could never satisfy you the way I can, isn’t that right, baby? He doesn’t know what you need. No one knows what a good little whore you are and how much you want this. I’m the only one who can give you what you want.” He’d been worried for a moment that Scott really had wanted to leave him, but being this eager meant Scott was still his. Still in love.

He just had to make sure of it.

Scott’s eyes rolled, mouth stretched wide as he laved his tongue around Theo’s cock. Scott just had to focus on his task for a little longer, not the way his knees ached or the sharp pin pricks of ash across his skin. Sweat dripped down the length of his spine, starting at his nape and sliding down the long line of his back to disappear into the hem of his pants. He had to hold out for a little longer. If he pleased Theo, he could go home, lick his wounds and try to piece himself together before everything else fell apart.

Theo pulled him off with a flick of his wrist, slapping his heavy cock against Scott’s cheek just to watch him chase it like a greedy bitch.

“Turn around. I want to hear you beg when I give it to you.”

For a second Scott froze in fear, his breath catching in his throat, but he moved obediently, bending over on all fours and sliding off his pants. The feel of Theo’s big hands across his ass left him trembling, but he let himself be lulled by sweet caresses, breathing heavily as he squeezed his balls and stroked his cock.

“Please, Theo…” He bit out, shivering under his touch. When his boss stubbed his cigarette out against his thigh, Scott screamed.

“Not good enough, sweetheart. Why don’t you try that again?”

Theo smeared the ashes across the young man’s flesh, his hold tightening when his prisoner jerked beneath him. It was for Scott’s own good really. He needed to understand how badly he’d hurt Theo. The only way to get past all this was to even the score. It made it all the sweeter when he lined up behind him and thrust in, splitting him open on his cock.

Scott howled, all the air forced from his lungs. There was no pleasure in the raw friction that tore him apart, this wasn’t about him. This was a reminder that he was just a thing for Theo to use at his discretion. Tears streaked down his face as he bowed his head and sobbed.

“Keep trying.” Theo hissed, fingers closing around Scott’s throat as he pulled him back against his body. He demanded submission, squeezing tight enough that Scott swooned before sliding his hands down the singers taut, lean body. He loved the compact form with its hard muscles beneath soft skin and slim waist he could wrap his hands around. It was why he dressed Scott in tight suits to show off each line and tease the audience with what they’d never be able to have. It also bore his marks, old scars and half-healed wounds hidden beneath the clothes that no one would ever see. All the love bites and bruises that made Scott his. It was his masterpiece.

He dragged his hands down Scott’s nipples, fucking him hard as he tweaked and teased the sensitive nubs until they pebbled against his touch. Theo moved lower, cupping Scott’s unresponsive cock and stroking until his unwilling body gave in. Scott never stood a chance when Theo knew everything about him, all his needs and secrets and wielded them like weapons. He’d pulled them out with poisoned promises until Scott had let down his walls.

Wet skin slapped obscenely and sweat gathered in the small of Scott’s back as Theo rutted into him. He kissed the curve of the singer’s neck and twisted the tight ring of his fingers until Scott’s hips stuttered. “There we go. That’s how you like it.”

Scott cried for him on cue, trembling in his arms as he braced himself. He begged and pleaded, moaning like a dollar whore. All he had left was surrender, his life forfeit long ago. Theo was ruthless. Sharp teeth dug into Scott’s throat, too high to hide under any collar, and Scott cried out, shuddering through his orgasm as he writhed on his master’s cock. Theo fucked him through it, using him like a rag doll, oversensitive skin screaming under the sensation, and ecstasy bled away under the brutal assault.

His nerves had been scrubbed raw and left exposed for Theo’s pleasure. Scott was put on his back, body aching and sore, but spread open in a humiliating show of defeat. Theo bent in him half, put his gaping, swollen cunt on his display. He pulled back far enough for the head of his cock to stretch Scott’s entrance, skin flushed an angry red as muscle clenched around him, and Scott groaned helplessly, nails digging into the floorboards.

“Please Theo please please…” He slurred, tongue tripping over the words, and Theo liked the sharpened edge that underlined each word, the way that Scott’s lips quivered with need when he said his name. The singer was never more motivated to beg than when he was begging Theo to stop. 

“That’s it, baby. You’re being so good for me.”

He fucked Scott into the floor, using him until there was nothing he could take and filling him up where no one else had ever touched him. Scott was so naive to think it would be over that quickly. Theo stopped the boy from crawling away, grabbing him by the hair and shoving his face into the floor with a mocking sigh.

“Look at the mess you made. What are you going to do about it?” Scott looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, shoulders trembling with the effort to keep himself steady. Something like a smile broke out across Theo’s face, but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that made the young man flinch no matter how gently he carded his fingers through his hair. “I hate seeing you this way, sweetheart. I wish you hadn’t hurt us like this. Don’t cry. Now you’re going to use that pretty whore mouth to clean up this mess, before I really hurt you, okay?”

Scott bowed his head, fighting back heartbroken whimpers as he did as he licked the floor clean. Then Theo had him strung up by his wrists. He needed Scott pinned so he could get a full confession out of him, and Scott sang until his throat threatened to give out, sang for everyone who would listen because even when his boss left the room, he made sure Scott knew who he belonged to.

Hours later, when Theo let him down, Scott was docile and meek. Theo prettied him up in last night’s clothes, watching him sway as he fought to keep steady on his knees, gaze vacant and unseeing. It was a decline in performance Theo didn’t appreciate. He loved it when Scott bit back just hard enough to please him, and part of him genuinely hated seeing Scott like this. He loved the boy, loved it when he laughed with him, loved his sharp edges as much as the quiet way he curled up against him after a long night. They used to be so good together. Scott’s mistake had almost cost them everything, but Theo was confident because he was going to make all their problems go away. 

Besides, Scott was useful enough as his pliant pet. That was all he needed today. He dragged Scott closer by his tie, watching him go pink in the face as he scrambled to obey. His boy still made the sweetest noises when fitted with a noose.

Turning to one of his men, smile sharpening when he noticed how he avoided looking at Theo’s pet, he said, “There’s a chance we’ll be seeing more of our detective friend. Don’t bother him unless he starts being… reckless. Close the door on your way out.”

Scott didn’t know how long he stayed on his knees with only his master to guide him, but when he was finally bundled up into the backseat of an unmarked car, he thought he would cry in relief, even if he didn’t know if this was Theo’s way of making sure he kept his mouth shut more permanently. He almost didn’t recognize the building they stopped in front of, even if he’d been going home to it every night since he’d made Theo’s acquaintance.

He stumbled his way up to his apartment, trying not to feel the quiet judgement of his doorman or the elevator operator. Having people know what happened was almost worse than living through it, the shame was a private one, but he was almost too tired to care anymore. Everything throbbed with a dull ache that sharpened when he moved too quickly. All he needed was a hot shower or three and twelve hours to sleep away the nightmare. The world could wait until then, all the other worries were put on pause.

What Scott didn’t expect was company or the well-worn pistol in his lap.

**[Present]**

When Scott woke, he was on his belly, swaddled in Egyptian cotton. His vest and shirt were gone, to show off a galaxy of sickly purples and sallow yellows. His pants had been dragged down far enough to reveal the cigarette burns on the back of his thighs. Yet cooling cream was smeared across his feverish skin, and calloused but careful hands slowly fed him a cup of water.

“Scotty, what happened to you…”

What kind of answer could he give to that? Scott murmured inaudible thanks and took a sip of water to wash the foul taste from his mouth. He struggled to sit up, pulling the sheets with him like he could hide the evidence of what had happened. Damn Stiles, he had no right to pry into this. Better that the detective hate him than know the truth.

“I’m fine.” He protested but Stiles wasn’t having it and pushed the singer back down on soft pillows.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Stiles scrubbed his hands over his face, scratching against the unshaven stubble with a sigh. His head still spun from the whiskey, but seeing Scott collapse had shocked him sober and guilt settled into the pit of his stomach. “I didn’t mean to.” He reached out with clumsy hands to brush the hair from Scott’s face, but the singer jerked away from his touch.

“Would it have changed anything?” The other man hissed, whatever pride he was allowed to keep sorely wounded. “You were right about me, what more do you want? I’m Theo’s whore and I betrayed you, everything else is my business. Now is there something you need from me, Detective, or are you just going to drink all my booze and threaten to kill me some more?”

He deserved that and Stiles ducked his head in acceptance. “You took care of me when I got my face beaten in, doll. It’s only fair to return the favor.”

That made Scott pause and he glared suspiciously at Stiles. He was too tired to fight, Theo had beaten every bit of resistance from his body tonight and there was nothing left to defend himself. “This is a bad idea. If he finds you here, he’s really going to kill you.”

“What, he wasn’t trying before?” The joke fell flat. Stiles didn’t enjoy honesty on the singer as much as he thought he would.

“What do you want from me?” Scott’s voice was tired and subdued like Stiles had never heard it before, and it surprised him how much that grated on his nerves. Stiles approached him slowly, holding up a container the rest of his first aid kit like an olive branch.

“Just turn around for me. Let’s get those bruises looked at.” Scott sent him one final glance, but he lowered his head and did as he was told, shoulders slumping under the weight of the world. That same thrill of disapproval bit at Stiles’s heel. He was careful when he reinspected Scott’s injuries, smoothing medicine over swollen skin. “Here’s what I think, sweetheart. You’ve been playing all of us for chumps. Otherwise, you and that asshole from the docks would be a lot better off, or does your boss always get this way when other men talk to you? I can’t help you if I don’t know everything.”

“And if I don’t?” Scott asked, gritting his teeth because he knew how that question was answered. Behind him, Stiles stilled before slowly pulling his hands back.

“If you don’t, then I’m gonna try to help you anyway, but I’ll be wandering around with one eye shut, and that isn’t good for anyone… I’m not going to hurt you, Scott.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I bet you have, but not from the guy patching you up.”

“No, from that guy, too.” Scott laughed, a strained little thing that sounded like it was trying to become a scream. His smile was too wide for his face, and it fit in all the wrong ways, like he’d forgotten how to frown and was discovering how else he could push it through. “When Theo comes by tonight, he’s gonna have a whole pharmacy in his bag and dinner and maybe tickets to the theater, and he’s gonna say he had to do this for my own good. I can’t pay you, detective. Just take what you want and go before he catches up with you, too.”

Scott was as sharp as glass, but just as fragile, and Stiles couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Somewhere along the line, they’d balled into fists. He couldn’t even remember when. “ _What I want_ is to make sure you’re no longer here by the time he drops by. There’s only one thing I haven’t figured out. What made you take the risk in the first place?”

The injured man twisted to look at Stiles for a long minute as if judging his motivations and the risks involved in speaking the truth. Lies were so much safer, you could tell people what they needed to hear. “I wanted to start over.” Scott finally said, wincing as he forced himself to sit up. “I wanted a normal life. I was tired of watching people get hurt.” Slowly, Scott made it up to his feet and brushed away Stiles’s worried hands. The shower and sleep had to wait, as long as the detective was here, they were both in danger and Scott didn’t know if he could survive another round so soon.

He shuffled to the bedroom and dressed in clean clothes to make himself feel a little more human and cover up his wounded, broken body. A pretty face was all he needed, that’s why Theo never hit him where it would show. Stiles protested, following Scott but the singer didn’t even pause as he changed. A new life was something the detective could appreciate and giving up all the riches and fame from Theo’s club made more sense when he saw exactly how the man treated even his favorite toys.

“You need to rest!”

“And what do we do when Theo checks in on me?” Scott grabbed his fedora and pulled it down low at a rakish angle. Dressed up and with a roguish grin, no one could ever tell how brittle he was underneath. “I can take you down the service elevator and out the back. Theo’s men are probably watching the building, but if you go out through the alley, then you can avoid them. Just lay low for a few days and we’ll get through this.”

Stiles scowled darkly and shook his head. “And what about you? You think I’m going to just leave you here after what he did?”

“Yes.” The answer was matter of fact and resigned. “This isn’t your decision to make. You can’t help me, Stiles, but I can still help you.”

The clouds around the detective’s head grew even stormier and he wanted to reach out and shake the stubborn young man. “I could help you if you’d let me.”

Scott didn’t answer, just found his shoes and coat and held open the door. “Don’t make me take this risk for nothing. I’m the reason you’re in this mess, let me get you out of it.” He shoved Stiles out into the hall, herding him towards the service elevator as the man argued the entire way. What Stiles wanted didn’t matter, Theo was coming and they’d both suffer if they were caught. It was just a fact, one more problem to deal with before he could crawl in bed and pretend that none of this existed. As long as he kept himself focused on pushing his exhausted body to take one more step, he could hold off being left alone with his own thoughts and the crushing guilt. Stiles finally stopped arguing, riding down the stripped down elevator with defiant silence and Scott knew he would have to watch him closely. From what little he knew of the man, he had a stubborn streak and an uncanny ability for trouble. Sending him on his way might not stop him, the idiot.

The door dinged and slid open, and Scott yelped in surprise. Theo’s guards were even taking up posts inside the building?! They stared at each other in shock for a heartbeat before Scott moved by instinct, memories scribed into his bones from the life he hoped to escape. As the guard fumbled for his revolver, Scott grabbed the weapon and smashed the man’s fingers so he couldn’t reach the trigger. He struck fast and cracked the weapon against the man’s face, nose crunching wetly, and then kicked out at the guard’s knees to send him down to the ground. Scott stopped as the man rolled on the ground in pain, breathing hard and mind a blank with fear. Only three words managed to piece the frozen haze of terror.

_Theo will know._

They spun through his head, blinding him of everything else, an inescapable certainty that left his knees buckling. Then a desperate, horrid idea broke through, and Scott tightened his grip on the revolver. He could put a bullet between the man’s eyes, and go back upstairs to wait for Theo, pretend he didn’t know anything, pretend he never left. Or he could turn the gun on himself and put an end to everything a whole lot faster.

The sick sound of breaking bone jerked him out of his reverie, as Stiles’s foot smashed into the guard’s face. The guard didn’t get back up. Scott hadn’t even noticed the second guard, or the ease at which Stiles had disposed of him. The detective was holding another gun now, armed with twice the firepower. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of Scott.

“You going to put that piece down, doll?”

Scott inhaled sharply, but he didn’t protest as Stiles pulled the weapon out of his hand, tucking it away carefully. The detective could barely believe his eyes. He saw what Theo had done to Scott, and every second he watched him, the singer had to fight to keep standing, but he dropped a man twice his size in a handful of seconds. When Scott spoke, his voice sounded so achingly wet.

“He’ll fix this.”

It was a quiet sound, anchored in fear so thick, Stiles could taste it coming off of the other man, and Scott turned like he wanted to head back into the building. The detective wouldn’t let him. They both knew who _He_  was. Stiles caught his wrist gently, careful of the blackened bruises that ringed it, but Scott still startled, blinking at him like he’d never seen him before. Scott was trembling, so faintly Stiles doubted he even knew he was doing it, and he pulled the singer just a little closer.

“I’m not going to let him.” 

He adjusted Scott’s hat, brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders, and quietly celebrated when his client breathed easier. “I need you to keep it together, doll. Just like we talked about, go out the back alley and lay low. Are you still with me, Scott?”

Stiles watched him then, a thousand emotions playing across such sweetly expressive features as Scott fought through his fear. He saw the moment shame sank its claws into him. Scott had to lower gaze, but Stiles slowly tangled their fingers together. It felt like the only way to make him stay.

“We can’t stay here.” Scott rasped. “We have to get underground.” He didn’t let go of Stiles’s hand until they hit the main road.

They kept to the shadows, following back alleys through the city, and it was almost a block away when Scott called for a cab, giving an address near Lower Manhattan that Stiles didn’t recognize as one of Theo’s.

Scott watched the snow swept city pass by, the glittering lights and bright green wreaths in the shop windows, the ribbons and trees covered in tinsel. With a fresh dusting of snow, it all looked so beautiful, the world focusing on hope and peace for the season. They didn’t realize it was the end of the world. He had wanted to run, but there was a plan and he’d been so careful. Just leaving with nothing had never been an option, Theo had deep pockets and connections to powerful people. If Scott just disappeared, he’d be found no matter how far he ran and the punishment was too terrible to think about. The only way he could escape was with enough money to protect himself, but it had all gone to shit. One mistake and he was running for his life. How could he have been so stupid?

The cab wound through bleak streets, pulling farther away from the glitz and glam to the slummier neighborhoods of New York where overcrowded apartments and filthy sidewalks were the only holiday decorations. A few raggedly determined ribbons hung from doors, but most people didn’t have enough money to spend on things like electric lights. They pulled up in a neighborhood Stiles had never been to and he reached into his shoe for the last of his cash. Then they walked, until the cab was well out of their sight, and the detective might not have recognized the area, but he recognized the winding route Scott used to shake any would-be tails.

They finally stopped in front of a worn looking brick building. The singer hadn’t been here for years, but he’d never given it up, not even when Theo had given him a swanky new apartment in the best part of town. This place was in his blood and he couldn’t shake it no matter how far he tried to run.

He led Stiles up the narrow staircase, the building too old for an elevator, and down the dim hallway on the eleventh floor. The door was easy to pick, he’d left the keys back at his apartment with everything else he’d ever owned, but there was little fear of the place being robbed. No one who lived here had anything worth stealing. The apartment was one small room, a bed taking up most of the space crammed next to a rickety table with a lone radio bought from some secondhand store. A tiny stove and icebox were wedged beside the table. The only bathroom was down the hall and shared by the entire floor. It was cold, no one had opened the vents in a long time and everything was covered with a fine layer of dusts. Even the cockroaches avoided it.

Scott closed the door behind them, sliding the bolt in place and sagging against the splintering wood. 

“Welcome home, detective.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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